Why is it that driving brings out the sadist in us all?
Returning home today I have to negotiate a turning which leads on to a dual carriageway one of whose lanes leads to a slip road for the motorway to Barcelona and the other leads me home. Although there is a single white line painted on the road to discourage lane switching, many Catalan drivers regard such ornamentation as mere road decoration having nothing to do with driving restrictions.
As I was proceeding in the correct (outside) lane in heavy traffic I noticed that next to me in the inside lane was a young man in a car which looked as though someone had inserted a pump in some vehicular orifice and blown it up to resemble a giant Tonka toy. We had both stopped at a traffic light controlled zebra crossing which was a couple of hundred yards from the turning to Barcelona. The turning which I did not want to take, but from which the young man assumed I was going to nip in to steal a march on him and sail away to the Catalan capital in front of him. He therefore inched forward to give himself the advantage when the lights changed to green.
I pride myself that I have always been a smooth and speedy getter away from stationary. I remember with affection the time that I bought (perhaps unadvisedly) some sort of boy racer Ford car, whose name escapes me at the moment but I am sure it will reappear before I end. I had bought it because it had electric windows (as good a reason to buy a car as any other in my view) and not because of its speed. Perhaps what I later discovered to be called a ‘spoiler’ on the back should have given me a hint of what the car was, but such things passed me by in those days. Might it have been an XR5? That does sound familiar.
It did mean however that when I was waiting at traffic lights by attention would be drawn to spotty youths revving up their engines at my side and looking at me in what I could only call a challenging manner. The lights would change to green and I would pull away in a sedate, yet purposeful manner ahead of spotty youth who would respond to being left by hurtling past me at some ludicrous speed with a determined look on his face.
So I went back to those days today when the car next to be edged forward with exclusive hope towards his part of the road. I edged forward as well, just enough to encourage his belief that I wanted to get into that inside lane to go to Barcelona as well. And, just as he triumphantly swerved his way ahead of me into the slip road that I didn’t want to take I rode majestically onwards in the outside lane towards my destination. I do hope that his petty triumph was not curtailed too abruptly!
It does set one up for a relaxing Friday evening!
Returning home today I have to negotiate a turning which leads on to a dual carriageway one of whose lanes leads to a slip road for the motorway to Barcelona and the other leads me home. Although there is a single white line painted on the road to discourage lane switching, many Catalan drivers regard such ornamentation as mere road decoration having nothing to do with driving restrictions.
As I was proceeding in the correct (outside) lane in heavy traffic I noticed that next to me in the inside lane was a young man in a car which looked as though someone had inserted a pump in some vehicular orifice and blown it up to resemble a giant Tonka toy. We had both stopped at a traffic light controlled zebra crossing which was a couple of hundred yards from the turning to Barcelona. The turning which I did not want to take, but from which the young man assumed I was going to nip in to steal a march on him and sail away to the Catalan capital in front of him. He therefore inched forward to give himself the advantage when the lights changed to green.
I pride myself that I have always been a smooth and speedy getter away from stationary. I remember with affection the time that I bought (perhaps unadvisedly) some sort of boy racer Ford car, whose name escapes me at the moment but I am sure it will reappear before I end. I had bought it because it had electric windows (as good a reason to buy a car as any other in my view) and not because of its speed. Perhaps what I later discovered to be called a ‘spoiler’ on the back should have given me a hint of what the car was, but such things passed me by in those days. Might it have been an XR5? That does sound familiar.
It did mean however that when I was waiting at traffic lights by attention would be drawn to spotty youths revving up their engines at my side and looking at me in what I could only call a challenging manner. The lights would change to green and I would pull away in a sedate, yet purposeful manner ahead of spotty youth who would respond to being left by hurtling past me at some ludicrous speed with a determined look on his face.
So I went back to those days today when the car next to be edged forward with exclusive hope towards his part of the road. I edged forward as well, just enough to encourage his belief that I wanted to get into that inside lane to go to Barcelona as well. And, just as he triumphantly swerved his way ahead of me into the slip road that I didn’t want to take I rode majestically onwards in the outside lane towards my destination. I do hope that his petty triumph was not curtailed too abruptly!
It does set one up for a relaxing Friday evening!
No comments:
Post a Comment